


Elysian

by TheUnexeptionalAuthor



Series: Illiad [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Badass Reader, Captain puffy is a pirate, Cara | CaptainPuffy and Jschlatt are Siblings, Family Feels, Gender-Neutral Pronouns For Reader, Good Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Good Parent Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Good Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Grammarly as Beta, I really want kids when im older, I watched the clip where jschlatt was proud of him and just sorta went off the rails, I wrote like 2000 words for this in a week, I'm looking at you phil antis, Minecraft, Minx is a pirate, Multi, Parent Sam | Awesamdude, Pirate Girl Gang, Ranboo is Jschlatt's Son, Royalty, Sally is a pirate, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Weddings, and you can tell, kind of, no beta we die like l'manburg, no y/n, over and over again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29686752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnexeptionalAuthor/pseuds/TheUnexeptionalAuthor
Summary: ElysianE·ly·sianadjectiverelating to or characteristic of heaven or paradise.Being Second-Born has some perks, truly it does. Only, you can't seem to enjoy any of them as you desperately try to wrangle your family into shape before your arranged marriage to the Crown Prince of the Antarctic Empire.In which you are Patrocolus, and he is Achilles.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, Kristin Rosales Watson/Phil Watson, Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Technoblade/Reader, Technoblade/you - Relationship, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot/Sally the Salmon
Series: Illiad [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2195574
Comments: 37
Kudos: 192





	1. Philia

**Author's Note:**

> 10 Months before the Wedding

Philia. It is defined as love similar to friendship, or brotherhood.

You have brothers. Two half brothers to be exact, both younger than you. You wonder if this is how they feel about each other. 

You looked different than them. Not many of your siblings looked alike anyway, though, so it had never bothered you much. None of you were full siblings, either. 

There was always something that tied you each to your father. For Niki, it was her full lips. For Eret, it was their commandeering stature and brown curls. For Ranboo, the subtle slope of his nose. For you, though, it was the horns that curled around your head. 

The only one of you who looked the spitting image of dear old dad was Tobias. Brown hair, ram horns, earth-toned eyes, and even the soft jawline. Tubbo looked as if someone had taken your father’s childhood portrait and turned it to flesh and bone.

You loved your siblings, of course. You had been in charge of them for so long though, and it had worn you down over the years. 

Although Eret was older than you by a year and fourteen days, you had always felt older. Eret was just so adventurous. Not to their discredit, either, but you could never be as at peace with moving about so freely as they did. 

Until the arrival of Alex Quackity. Your father’s newest Royal consort. He was your favourite as well. Alex was kind and funny. He also took to helping you with Tubbo and Ranboo from time to time. He wasn’t Minx, but no one was. 

All this was on your mind as you pulled on a white shirt and some black trousers, lacing up your hunting boots. A servant came in and fussed over you for a bit, but then disappeared into the halls again. Finally, you were ready to go to the hall. Your father had called all of his children to break their fasts together that morning. Two Redstone rings hung from your neck on a black cord, bouncing against your chest as you walked. It had been from Eret’s mom, Minx. Her wedding ring to your father, and his to her. The only true queen. Every other partner your father had taken was a “Royal Consort”. No power, perhaps, but they did receive attention and more money than anyone could ever need.

You reached the dining hall speedily and were glad to see at least Eret and Niki conscious and well-behaved. Tubbo was flicking his blueberries into the bowl on Ranboo’s head made by his crown. This was made easier for Tubbo since Ranboo was face down in his oatmeal. 

“Sit down, fae.” Alex offered, his white smile pierced through your annoyance at your immature baby brothers, and the nickname made you match his grin. 

You pulled a chair in between your father and Eret. Eret looked nice. A white lantern-sleeved blouse covered their chest with a long green skirt that puffed from their hips. They had that ability to make anyone jealous with a glance, even dressed simply like they were that day. 

“So, dad, Alex, was there a reason we’ve gathered to break our fasts together today?” You ask, buttering a slice of bread.

“Someone has finally offered you a proper proposal”. You heard the muttered sentence. Your father had a rough accent, and his words shocked everyone at the table except for you. Ranboo shot up from his oatmeal, Tubbo dropped the blueberries, Niki’s head shot upward off of her left hand, and Eret let out a truly undignified noise of shock. You, however, calmly continued to butter your bread. 

“Oh? Who is it, Dad?” A part of you suspected it was Clay, better known as Dream, the King of Zeamor. He wasn’t awful, not really, despite what all of your siblings thought. He was a boastful young man, perhaps, but not truly awful. He was handsome, and above your station. It was just that he was so very not like you. He did not like to read, he did not like to ride horseback, and he did not like to shoot. He liked only to conquer. You could conquer, of course, you were your father’s best general, but you had other interests. _Normal_ interests.

“Do you remember Crown Prince Technoblade of the Antarctic Empire?” Alex asked, giving you a soft squeeze of your hand under the table told you that this was not a union approved by him. 

“Indeed. Is it him? I suppose we would make a useful union. Would we inherit their military power?” You asked, reaching to wipe Ranboo’s face of a bit of leftover oatmeal. 

“Yes, but that’s not why we’re doing this. The drought on the eastern border still hasn’t cleared up, and the famine to the west is still a problem too. The antarctic Empire is strong, and they have agreed that integrating Melaista into their Empire under an Alliance would be mutually beneficial since they need some money or something.” Your father explained, taking a bite of some breaded jam. 

“Mhm. Alright then. So will they be coming here or should we have to travel?” You were talking, but you were also attempting to bring your siblings to a reasonable mentality about the situation.

“We’ll be travelling. You’re okay with this?” Your father was a good parent, truly he was, but he truly had no tact. Even if you weren’t okay with this, you were second-born. You were always going to have an arranged marriage. It was something you had known for as long as you had known anything at all. Eret would be king, and you would be married off, and Niki would become a royal adviser.

You weren’t sure entirely why everyone else was so shocked. Your family was certainly unorthodox for royalty, but surely no one thought you would be a general until you were too old to fight, right?

Besides, as a second-born, you had nothing to complain about. You had always been free to pursue whatever you pleased, and you were going to marry someone of the same standing as you.

Eret had always told you as children they wished you were born first, if only so that you could lead and they could do whatever they pleased until they were married.

“Yes, of course. Why ever wouldn’t I be?” You hummed, as your family stared at you in shock. Oh, Ender, they did think you would stay an unmarried general forever, didn’t they?

“Well, we’ll be off at the end of the month, then, I suppose.” Alex squeezed your hand again. 

“Will we be allowed to come, dad?” Tubbo finally piped, pulling his jaw off of the floor. 

“I don’t think-” Started your father, but you and Alex both knew how it would break your siblings’ hearts if they thought this meant you would never see them again. 

“Jay,” Alex said sternly. Your father went silent.

“That’d be great, Toby. You all would be such comforts.” You smiled, patting your brother on the head in between his small horns, which were still growing.

The rest of breakfast carried on as though no news had been given at all. Your father and Tubbo talked about your country home in Terraria, which they both adored, Eret and Niki joked about making a new Melaista flag, and Ranboo attempted to eat what was left of his oatmeal, only Tubbo still flicked blueberries at him. 

When you finally left breakfast, it was late morning, and you had a million things to do. Change, first. You could hardly be dressed like a Hunter all day. 

You pulled on the overcoat you had worn in battle only a year prior. It was adorned with medals, a royal blue that proved you were more than a fastidious young dignitary. You had come of age in battle and had earned the title of the War Fae. It made you sound much more frightening than you felt, but at least fae made you smile. Eret’s first word had been fairy, and he had pointed at you while saying it. After that, it had become a family nickname, and you could scarcely make it through a conversation without hearing it.

Then, of course, there was your crown. Not a smaller version of your father’s, like what Eret and Ranboo wore. Not a golden tiara, like Niki’s, and not an attachment that latched onto your horns and stretched from one to the other over your hair, like the piece Tubbo had worn since his small nubs had grown in.

You didn’t really like crowns all that much. They were heavy, uncomfortable, and didn’t fit well over your horns. 

The crown you were often forced into was a silver circlet, with minimal loops, of which could be tucked just above your ears. It was closer to a headband, truly. There was only one gem, upon your father’s request. A single Redstone gem fell on your forehead and bounced softly with every step you took. 

Then, you were off to attend to your duties, most of which were technically Eret’s. 

You wouldn’t say your older sibling was a bad heir, or that they didn’t do to their duties at all. Eret had simply been ill-equipped for all of the duties that came with being of age. 

First, you had to call for your lady in waiting. She was new and as sweet as a flower, which made her name all the more sensible. Hannah Rose wasn’t exactly overeager, but she was certainly surprised when you specifically asked for her to be your lady in waiting, and became the hardest worker you had ever met. You asked a passing servant for her, and they nodded. She was by your side not ten minutes later. 

“What do we need to do first, Hannah?” You asked, falling in step alongside the girl who was only a year your junior. 

“We have to go argue with some lords about their land, grant some farmers their extra grain due to the famine and drought, and then some early-stage wedding planning,” The fact that Hannah was aware of the proposal was a surprise and not at the same time. You knew that she had probably been told because she was your lady in waiting, but it still shocked you to know that anyone outside of the family was aware at all. 

“Oh! And Duke Samuel is home from his dignitary trip, so you might want to see him.” That stopped you in your tracks. Uncle Sam? Your godfather was often out of the kingdom on dignitary trip after dignitary trip. It was a blessing from the Goddess that he was home, especially now that you were to be married. Wait, did he know? Had your father told him or would you have to break the news? You hoped it had been your dad. You weren’t sure if you could tell him if you tried. Perhaps you should attempt to process this situation, but you hardly had time. Life moved on, whether you processed it or not. 

“Alright. And after, I should help my brothers pack. Eret and Niki will be fine, though,” You hummed, before starting back up, “Let’s go help these farmers!

\-------

The meetings with the farmers were dreadful. One by one they ranted at you about crops as if you were the one who had dried up the rivers or the one who made the soil harden. 

You gave them gold from the treasury for their troubles and sent them on their way. 

Then there was the wedding planning. Oh, how dreadful. There was so much you hadn’t considered. You tried to remember Minx’s wedding to your dad, but all you could recall was white. 

Blinding white, everywhere. White flowers, white pillars, white dress, white, white, white. 

It was the opposite of your mother’s funeral. Black flowers, black pillars, black coffin, black, black, black.

But neither of those were exactly wedding planning ideas. 

It turned out that even though your wedding was a full ten months away, there was more to decide than flowers and clothing. Budgets, guest lists, venues, and caterers.   
  


You hadn’t even known you needed more than one venue, let alone authorizing everyone in every kingdom to come, and you hadn’t even met your fiance yet! It was too much, plain and simple. But you and Hannah concluded your troubles involving the budget with the Secretary of Treasury, Ponk, who happened to be Uncle Sam’s husband. He was a smart man, certainly, if not a hothead, and arguing over thousands of gold ingots was not as pleasant as grabbing a bite to eat with him. It was an aggressive conversation, and he would argue with you down to a single iron nugget if he had to. 

And so finally, _finally_ , you could go see your uncle. 

Duke Samuel Warden was the best person on the planet, in your opinion. He was fun and tall, and an amazing engineer. Engineers were invaluable, especially because Melaista was a country rich with Redstone, and Sam Warden was the best engineer there. Being his godchild was like a dream. You were spoiled rotten from the time you were a baby by him and were as close to a child as he ever claimed to want. Your other siblings had their godparents, but none of them were as close as you were to Sam. Sam loved to give you gifts, and he loved giving you PVP training, so you had a surplus of both. He was everything you idolized. Calm and collected, strong and protective, and intelligent in every sense of the word. 

You had always felt that you were treated more delicately than your siblings, especially Eret, but Sam had never seen you that way. If it weren’t for that, you would have never become a general. A god of War in the eyes of your people.

So imagine how you squealed with delight when he hugged you after you opened the door to his study. “Uncle Sammy!” 

“Hi, Moonbeam! How are we doing?” He smiled, pulling away and giving you a pat on the head, which you leaned into. 

“I’m well, Uncle! Mind if I sit and talk to you for a bit?” You asked, rolling on the balls of your feet and giving a cheeky grin which you reserved especially for news. 

“Oh no, What’d you do?” He asked, his face dropping comically. 

You gasped as dramatically as you could. “I didn’t do anything. If you have a problem with what I’m about to say, take it up with my dad!” 

“That’s worse, you get how that’s worse, right, kiddo?”

“Oh hush.” 

You think he’s about to continue the small talk, but you don’t let him even start when you blurt out; “I’m getting married in ten months.” Uncle Sam pauses and gives a huff. It’s somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, and you don’t know if it’s exasperation or concern. Perhaps both. 

“That’s certainly something, pumpkin. Who, and please don’t say King Dream or King George. Those boys have more than enough going on.” 

“No, it’s actually-” you say technoblade, but only ever so quietly. No more than a murmur. 

“Who?” 

  
“Tcnblde.”

“Speak up, please.”

  
“Tenobade.”

“Kid.” 

“Technoblade.” You finally spit. And then it hits you. I mean _really_ hits you. Your dad had told you at 10 in the morning and it was _4 pm_ .   
  


“I’m, I'm getting married.” You mutter, stumbling back. “I’m getting _married_ , Sam.”

‘“Yeah, you told me.”

“But I haven’t really processed it. I’m not going to be a Schlatt. I’m not going to live here anymore. Like permanently. Dad is gonna walk me down the aisle. I’m getting married. I’m going to have to have _children_ . I’m going to rule beside him. Over an entire nation. With no big siblings with which to share the burden. I am to marry a crown prince. I have never been the heir. Sam, _I’m getting married_.” 

You were ashamed of how quickly the tears ran down your face. You were getting married to a crown prince in a country you had never been to before. Who would reprimand Eret when he asked an inappropriate question? Who’s going to wipe the oatmeal from Ranboo’s face when he wakes up at breakfast? Pick Niki’s outfits? _Sing Tubbo to sleep_? 

You collapsed in Sam’s arms as he attempted to hold you upright. He pulled you into his arms, him in a chair and you curled up on his lap, although you were far too old to be there. He pressed his lips to your head, humming so you could hear something besides your own choked sobs and your blood rushing. “Shh. It’ll be okay, Fae. You’re growing up. That’s all. Shh. It’s alright. I’m here. Feel for my heartbeat, okay?” You did, hesitantly, curling your head against his chest. You tapped the steady thrum of his chest until you felt less nauseous and the sobs had slowed and turned to whimpers.

“I’m so sorry for this, Uncle Sam.” You brushed your tears from your face, still pressed against your uncle.

“Never apologize for crying, kid.” 

  
You thought maybe Uncle Sam was right. Everything _would_ be okay.


	2. Ludus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 9 months before The Wedding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys! I'm so glad some of you liked chapter one, and I'm so sorry this chapter took me over a week to write! This chapter was also supposed to be about Wilbur but it kind of got away from me, so Reader gets some more war trauma!

Ludus is defined as a love that is playful and affectionate, a love that is not entirely serious.

Except, this is a type of love most foreign to you. Every relationship in your life had an air of seriousness. Hannah was your best friend, who had seen you at the best and worst times of your life. Sam was an ever-present father figure when your dad was just spread too thin. Your brothers were practically your sons. Niki was your student. Eret was who you split all of your responsibilities with. Alex was your equal in the family dynamic, but it weighed heavily on your relationship that you were the child of his husband. You had no, playful relationships. No relationships without strings. 

This trip is going to be great, or so you hope. Your brothers have behaved since the announcement. Perhaps they didn’t want to upset you, or perhaps they were worried, but you had only caught them running through the halls with jars of bees twice throughout the month. Today was the last of the month, and you were agitated. You had to leave this morning, and would most likely be in the Antarctic Empire by tomorrow evening. Then, your schedule was packed. Not just for the next nine months, but the rest of your life. Wedding planning, and besides that, parties and balls and soirees. It was only made worse by the fact that it was spring, and thusly, the debut of many young Ladies, Lords, Duchesses, and Dukes. Everyone in Noble society was searching for their match, but yours was already made. 

Maybe Technoblade was kind. Maybe he was not. Maybe he was akin to King Dream, kind on the surface, but cruel to those he conquered. Did Prince Technoblade like to conquer? Did he ride horseback? Read? Draw? Perhaps he played an instrument? He was an enigma to you. A black hole in the shape of a man. Looking back, you believed you had met him, once, but the memory of the ten-year-old boy was so dissimilar to the tales of the Blood God you had heard, you struggled to believe it.

_ He was stiff. It was the first thing you noticed about the boy. He had blond hair and red eyes, and he was stiff. He stood like a piece of bark. You were sure his back hurt. You stood straight, of course, but never so  _ stiff _. It was almost distracting. After a few moments of your daddy being in the room with his new consort, you were sent to go see the new baby. Eret had one hand in his pockets, and the other was holding Niki. The blond boy’s brother wasn’t paying much attention. He had brown hair and eyes, which looked similar So of course, you and Mr. Red Eyes had to go in and see the baby by yourselves. You had spent all afternoon peering at the awkward boy over your copy of Greek Myths for Children. The baby’s mom was asleep again, which Daddy and Mr. King Phil had discussed over your head. You attempted to look over the crib bars, but you were too short. You kept jumping, but you still couldn’t see your new brother.  _

_ The boy pulled a chair over from the corner of the room. “Stand on it. You can see him better that way.”  _

_ “But what if I fall? Or if I get in trouble?” You asked, tilting your seven-year-old bobblehead to the side like a puppy.  _

_ “I’ll catch you if you fall, and I’m older, so I’ll take the blame.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. But to you, a child with stars in your eyes, he might as well have given you the sun.  _

_ “That doesn’t sound very fair for you.” You mumbled, still confused.  _

_ “I think I would be very sad if I’m not tall enough to see Tommy when Momza has him, so I don’t think it’s fair to you that you’re too small to see inside right now.” He answered. He put his palm in yours to help you step onto the chair, and the world fell away for a moment.  _

_ The baby boy in the crib had your undivided attention. His eyes were wired shut and his mouth was open in a yawn. He was so small. There were thin patches of scruffy brown hair on his little head, and his little hands reached up blindly. You just looked. And looked. Bending over the rails of the crib, you stared in awe at your new baby brother. _

_ When you were sure you had forever memorized his face, you turned back to the boy, and he picked you up and placed you back down on the cold tile. “I’m Technoblade.” He introduced rolling on the balls of his feet. You told him your name in response, and he nodded so seriously you began to laugh. _

_ “Heh? What’s so funny?” He asked, looking down at you. _

_ “You’re very serious.” You explain scrunching up your nose.  _

_ He stuck his tongue out at you, and then you did the same, but you still put your hand out for a handshake. He took it, and then you both grinned wildly at each other. Your father’s newest consort woke up a moment later, and you never saw the boy again.  _

  
  


You stepped into the carriage with ease, the red cape you were forced into that morning swishing behind you. The outfit you wore today was radiant, but you felt out of place in it. Black leather pants, a white poet’s blouse of which was embroidered with golden flowers and more Redstone jewelry than you could handle. Strings of gold with Redstone attached to them connected your horns, and a traditional crown, not dissimilar to what your father and Ranboo wore -although it was a bit smaller to make way for the horns that curled upwards from your scalp- sat on your head.

Your brothers were practically vibrating with anticipation. Niki was pulling at her lace sleeves, and Eret was facing the floor. 

You placed a hand on her bicep, and their stark white eyes slowly raised to look at you. You dug into a pocket in your cape and produced the sunglasses that his stylists had confiscated. She gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. They pulled you into their side, after putting the glasses on. “You are the best sibling ever,” Eret mumbled. 

Tubbo gasped as overdramatically as possible. “How could you?” He shouted at the top of his lungs. You cringed at the noise. “Canon Kill?” Ranboo began to stand up, although his upper back hit the ceiling. You kicked your Tubbo in the shins and Niki pulled Ranboo down by his arm. “Shut up, you little termites.” You rolled your eyes. 

“This is going to be a long ride,” Your Dad muttered. Sam shook his head with a hidden smile.

“Would you rather they be stuffy, normal royalty?” Eret asked. You, along with all of your siblings straightened your posture immediately and began making harumph noises. 

“Father, this lace is uncomfortable!” Niki complained. “Father, this carriage is far too small!” Ranboo shook his head. “Why is this ride so long, father?” Tubbo took his turn in bemoaning. 

And of course, your turn; “Father, why can’t I wear diamonds, Redstone is so incredibly last season!”

Your dad laughed, and you found a certain euphoria in hearing him happy. He was always so serious, and you missed joking with him. “Alright, ya little fucks, I hear you, now quit.” 

“Really though, Dad,  _ are _ we there yet?” Tubbo said. “Alright, Tubbo, first canon kill!” Ranboo announced, pulling a tiny diamond dagger from his pocket. Niki yanked him down again, and he grumbled something about oppression. You leaned across and smacked his head. “You are a  _ literal _ prince. You’re the opposite of oppressed.” You roll your eyes again. 

You drift to sleep sometime that evening whilst listening to your siblings bicker, and when you awake, the carriage is still lurching forward. It must be early morning, as no one is awake. Schlatt, Sam, and Alex must have moved carriages when they fed the horses last night, as they’re gone. The sun was beginning to peek past the mountains, shy and pure. Oranges, blues, pinks and purples paled and swirled around her as she gained confidence and rose. The countryside is not Melaista, as light snow and yellow grass paint the ground. You are slowly beginning to drift back to sleep before Niki wakes up, and you concluded that you would not sleep. 

  
  


You finally realize how this must affect Niki. Tubbo and Ranboo were naturally upset, and you could feel the worry pulsating off of Eret, but what about Niki. She was probably scared out of her mind. She had followed you everywhere since you were small, and now you were  _ leaving _ . You pressed your hand to hers without explanation, and despite her confusion, she leaned into your touch. 

Tubbo rubs the sleep from his eyes and taps you on the leg. “Yeah, Tubbo?” You hummed, your hand never leaving your sister. “Can you read us something?” His chocolate puppy-dog eyes made it hard to say no. From where she was, Eret, eyes closed and head in hand, mumbled, “Needy little shit.”

“Shut up!” Tubbo shoved Eret. You sighed. “Really though, You have Brothers Karamazov

in your satchel, don’t you?” Niki said, staring at you with her crystal blue eyes. You relented by silently pulling the book from your bag, to Niki and Tubbo’s cheers and Eret’s dismay. Ranboo grumbles awake but perks up at the sight of the book perched in your lap. “We’re reading?” He asks, eyes widening in joy. 

“Just about to start,” You hum.

_ Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov was the third son of Fyodor Pavlovitch Karamazov, a landowner well known in our district in his own day, and still remembered among us owing to his gloomy and tragic death, which happened thirteen years ago, and which I shall describe in its proper place. For the present, I will only say that this ‘landowner’ — for so we used to call him, although he hardly spent a day of his life on his own estate — was a strange type, yet one pretty frequently to be met with, a type abject and vicious and at the same time senseless. But he was one of those senseless persons who are very well capable of looking after their worldly affairs, and, apparently, after nothing else. Fyodor Pavlovitch, for instance, began with next to nothing; his estate was of the smallest; he ran to dine at other men’s tables, and fastened on them as a toady, yet at his death it appeared that he had a hundred thousand roubles in hard cash. At the same time, he was all his life one of the most senseless, fantastical fellows in the whole district. _

You made it well into chapter 6 before the sunset began and the carriage stopped. You cringed. It was time. No more stalling. No more being distracted by your siblings, although the four of them had done an excellent job at it. Time to meet your husband. You readjusted the uncomfortable crown atop your head and pulled at the string of Redstone decorated gold under your chin that connected your horns. You continue to pick and pull at yourself until you finally see Callahan, a reindeer hybrid and a knight, appear to open the door. You thanked him, although he said nothing back. He had taken a vow of silence long before you had met him. You pick up the train of your cape and step, slowly, out of the carriage. You breathe a sigh of relief to know you will meet him inside. 

You take Niki’s hand, and she, in all her glory, steps out. You think she would be better for this task, as socially aware and intelligent as she is. Tubbo and Ranboo practically jump out of the carriage, and you roll your eyes. Eret adjusts your cloak, and hums, “I cannot wait for the day your eyes get stuck.” She mumbles. You give Eret a light shove. “Hush.”

You take tremulous steps forward, attempting not to shake with dread.  _ It’ll be okay, Fae.  _ Uncle Sam’s voice echoed in your head. You took a shaky breath and steeled yourself as the doors opened. The great palace doors creaked, and you realized how much larger the Empire palace was than your own. It was more intimidating, too, made from Quartz and blue concrete in place of the sandstone and terracotta you were used to. You wondered if the people were as cold as the country.

The throne room was decorated in blue and gold and was truly plentiful in wealth. There was a part of you that had never disappeared after the war that was disgusted. Each gold thread was enough for three arrows or six bread loaves. You still felt that disgust every time you got dressed in the morning. Every time you ate with your family. Every time you walked the halls of your home. It knawed away at you, making it hard to breathe. But the soft feeling of guilt tripled itself in this throne room, more expensive than even your own. You had only seen one other throne room like this. King Dreams. Even the thought made you sick. But the room, while gorgeous, paled in comparison to the royal family at the end of it. 

It would hard to tell which of the three tall, buff men was the king if you didn’t recognize that he was the same King Phil that came every time your father had a child and the same King Phil that lived in History Books for his peace agreement with the End Queen in his first year of ruling, although the war between the overworld and the End had lasted since before his father was born. 

When you had finally crossed the long walkway to the head of the room, you were the first to fall into a bow, your siblings following with practiced grace. They returned the favour. Except for your father and King Phil. They stared at each other with folded arms, and the tension thickened by the second. Until they bounded into a hug, and you huffed a soft breath. 

“Jay! You’ve grown old!” King Phil shook your dad by the shoulder. 

“Phil! You’re short as the devil!” Your dad shook him back.

“I’m sure you don’t recognize these little-” Your father began before you went to interrupt him, clocking the alarming number of minors in the room. “Father, maybe we could save that language for when we happen to be in a room where everyone is over the age of 18?” You hum.

He nods exaggeratedly, and that is the end of that. “Speaking of which, introduce yourself, brats.” He claps you on the back and you smile, a quick introduction passing your lips. 

Eret follows, and then Niki, Tubbo, and Ranboo, in a familiar order. Your family has always gone in this order. You, Eret, Niki, Tubbo, Ranboo, one after the other. The tallest man, with long pink hair in a braid and a domineering pig mask, kept his eyes laser-focused on you. Your  _ oh-so-loving _ fiance. It was annoying. You already felt under constant observance without him and his filled-in eyes. It was disturbing. 

Your father and King Phil converse a while more, and you zone out almost entirely. It’s boring and entirely unrelated to you. It’s not Kings having a discussion, it’s two friends catching up.

Eventually, the Queen, Kristen if you recalled, took everyone down the hall to a great dining room. If the throne room was disgusting, the food in the dining hall was nauseating. How many could this have fed on the front lines? How many farmers could this compensate? 

Still, you pulled up a chair next to Eret and sat. You pushed away from the urge to burrow the food from sight and give it to others as soon as you could. You realized that this was going to be a very hard 9 months. 

As the feast began, you realized the Antarctic royal family was not like your own. The children were down the table, several seats from the adults, and they weren’t having any fun. It hit you how unconventional your own family was. You were always aware, but they truly didn’t banter with each other, and it was unsettling. 

Down on the children’s end, Tubbo and Ranboo seemed to be getting along with the younger prince, which made you proud. They both were in desperate need of more friends. They were also, thank the goddess, being kind to the small boy of whom you couldn’t place. He couldn’t have been older than five, and his hair was a rusty orange. An oversized black hat with tiny gold shapes on it covered the base of two, barely visible, fox ears. He had a missing front tooth as if he wasn’t endearing enough. 

But it was far less cheerful up at the front. You ate in silence. Eret finally offered up a conversation starter. “So, this palace is certainly grand.” They all stared at her, which set off alarms in your head, so you decided to save your older sibling. 

“Oh, certainly,” You crooned, perhaps overdramatically. “The architecture is such a different style to our home, I thought perhaps we had come upon a city!” The wording was exaggerated and formal, but it succeeded in making your family a bit more comfortable in the cold walls. 

Niki gave a small hum in agreement, and you felt your heart swell. Niki was ever the diplomat. “Must be bigger than the inner city of the capital back home! I love the colours. And the food is divine, you must send our compliments to the chefs, your Majesties.” 

Queen Kristen, apparently better versed in the art of a civilized conversation than her family, gave a warm smile. “We most certainly will, your highness. The chef is a new one, so I am pleased to hear your enjoyment.”

“Do you perhaps know his name? I knew a great many chefs from this area when-” You started, before being cut off.

“Alright,” Declared Technoblade, in a tone that told you that he was not going to engage in empty small talk like a  _ good _ royal. “Are you going to do this forever, or can we address the elephant in the room.” He practically spits the words out, and you felt an extreme rage spark up in you. How  _ dare _ he speak to you that way? 

“I see no need to address the coming wedding, given we’re all adults who know what’s going to happen.” You calmly mutter, the fact that it’s not the wedding, but  _ your _ wedding tugging at your stomach. 

The man with brown hair and soft eyes, taller than you and the scrawniest of his family, gave a warning smile to his brother. “They’re right, it may be best for us to  _ behave _ .” 

“I apologize for him, please do go on?” he offered, a charming smirk gracing his lips. 

“When I was in the army, I recall having eaten a meal quite similar to this, of course, not of such great quality. Maybe I know him.” You state as simply as possible, but not bringing up a new topic as you had before. The air is stagnant for a moment, before Tubbo, of all people, went about saving you by jumping up from his seat and running to your side, while the young Antarctic prince went about screeching involving rules and where one was to eat. “Whatever is the matter, Toby?” You ask, your voice going from an ice dagger to a warm hearth in mere seconds. 

“I want a pet bee, but Ranboo said that probably wasn’t possible, and now I’m upset!” your brother whimpered. The familial reaction was immediate. Eret stood, without a word, to explain to Ranboo why that probably wasn’t the best thing to say to his bee-obsessed brother. Alex produced a small chapter book, and you switched seats so that he could eat with you all. Eret soon returned, an apologetic Ranboo in tow. The other family was in a state of shock as they watched you all drop the royal facade. 

Once everyone was settled again, none of your family cared to divulge in mindless chatter, so they simply pretended it was not a feast at all. 

Ranboo fell asleep, as he often did at mealtimes. Thankfully, he didn’t plop face-first into his dinner, his head laying on Niki’s shoulder. Tubbo was going on a tangent to a bored Eret about Redstone mechanics, as he was wont to do. You, however, decided to be advantageous and attempt to fold the new in with the familiar. Queen Kristen and Alex were having a conversation about something or other, and your father was laughing with King Phil. Taking a bold step, you looked over at the boy with brown hair and eyes. “D’ya wanna invite those poor souls down there to join us? Can’t be very fun for them down there.” It was a nudge, at least. Enough to tell him that your family was soon to be theirs. The man smiled and retrieved them. 

Technoblade was content to sit with a book. A part of you noted that it was Art of War, and perhaps that loosened your rage a tad. It was the type of book that could make someone a bit snappy. 

Dinner ends when all of the children are dozing off and the table, and before you can look for Hannah to take you to your room, you are pulled aside by the prince with the brown hair. 

“I just wanted to thank you. For not blowing up at my brother and for having everyone eat together. It was nice. New.” 

Unsure of what to do, you muttered a soft, “You’re welcome,” in a state of utter shock. 

The antarctic Empire was clearly not as bad as you had spent the day thinking if even one of the Princes was so genuine, and it was nice to have a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realized the ages might be a bit confusing, so this is my way of expanding upon that. I aged down the dsmp minors for vague plot reasons that will make sense later!
> 
> Eret - 22  
> you! - 21  
> Niki - 19  
> Techno - 24  
> Wil - 24  
> Tommy - 13  
> Tubbo - 14  
> Ranboo - 14  
> Fundy - 5  
> Dream - 21  
> George - 24  
> Sapnap - 20  
> Purpled - 14  
> Hannah - 20  
> Jack - 19
> 
> Phil - 50  
> Jschlatt - 44  
> Sam - 42  
> Ponk - 38  
> Alex - 36  
> Minx - 37  
> Puffy - 31  
> Sally - 25


	3. Mania

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 8 Months before the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate this chapter I hate this chapter I hate this chapter I hate this chapter I hate this chapter
> 
> I'll tell you why at the bottom but this is not as good as 1 or 2 in my opinion.
> 
> Another question though, would you guys be opposed to a sort of supplament book with lore info and character stats? It would have stuff like when how phil and Schlatt and sam all became friends, ram siblings content, princess minx backstory, like that sort of vibe. because that's sorta my jam but i don't want to write it if no one wants to read it!

Mania love is a type of love that leads a partner into a type of madness and obsessiveness. You have felt the exact opposite for Technoblade. He is the worst possible husband. He is aggressive, tactless, and hardheaded. 

But, he isn’t like Dream. He likes to read, and paint. He likes to take care of his family. He has feelings, which is a damn surprise. He’s honestly quite similar to you, even if you would rather perish than ever admit such a thing. 

On the bright side, you’ve made good friends with his younger twin, Prince Wilbur. Will actually reminds you of your father, in a few ways. Crude in jest, but still charming. Extremely political, but with graceful tact. A flirt with a heart of gold. He was a walking contradiction and it was glorious to watch. 

The arguing has made both your father and his extremely tense. A part of you wanted to ask if you could end the engagement altogether. However, you were not only extremely worried about the political effects of such a decision, (Wars had been waged over less), you had also put in nearly three months worth of effort into a gorgeous wedding, and you were too stubborn to give up now. But Technoblade certainly made that a hard goal. 

He was making it particularly hard today. You were tucked away in your corner of the library, happily humming and reading the Odyssey. You were slouched into a plush, velvety red chair that was warm and comfortable. Books were stacked around you, casting soft shadows against your skin. The Odyssey was a book of which was most familiar to you. It was your own copy, the one you had received from Sam on your thirteenth birthday. It’s pages were yellowed and torn, it’s book jacket long misplaced, and yet it still greeted you like an old friend. There were many books of which you could start, but the love Odysseus and Penelope shared drove you back every time. 

When you were a child, it was Odysseus that impressed you. Ten years of which he had sailed, spurred on by the love of his wife. Now, in the cold halls of the Antarctic Empire, it was Penelope who impressed you. To  _ wait _ ten years was the true feat. To raise her son alone. To  _ lead a country  _ alone, purely because she believed her love would return. You wished you could care for someone with such fervor. 

  
  


Of course, the peace that you were granted by the thirty square feet of books was disrupted by the sound of footsteps. They were Technoblades, you were certain. He, with little decorum, picked a book up off the top of the precariously placed stacks surrounding you, although you were still entirely hidden by the ridiculous amount of literature. He moved to pass you when your eyes met again. He was on the receiving end of a truly deadly glare from you, and although he returned it, you couldn’t help but notice something else in his eyes. A sort of softness. Then, his nose scrunched up ever so slightly and he made his way to the complete opposing side of the library. 

You cannot, for the life of you, focus on Odysseus’ narrow escape from Circe’s island, because you’re looking at him. You’re glaring, but you're also observing. His hair has started to grow again, and you can see the beginning of blond roots. He has nothing to do today, you suppose, if he has time to bother sitting in the library and reading. He’s so focused, and it’s addicting to watch his eyes flit across the page at lightning speed. His eyes are red, but they have twinges of oranges and brown and gold, dancing like a flame as he absorbs the words. It is a wonder to see his eyes without the mask he wore most of the time. He licks his lips over and over again, as if the dryness is bothering him, but not enough for him to put on some salve as a long term solution. There is no crown on his head, and you wonder what that might be like. You missed the feeling of there being absolutely nothing weighing down your neck. You had been adorned in all your finery since you had arrived, and it was truly despicable. But still, him. 

You weren’t glaring anymore, you realized. Your face must have softened at some point. Maybe when you had stopped thinking so negatively of him. But then, he must have felt your stare, because his own eyes shoot upward to meet you. He goes red, and you feel your body warm, starting at your neck and crawling up your skin like ants. Your eyes immediately stopped scanning him and looked back to the Odyssey, though of course you couldn’t focus. He was still looking at you, eyes like fire heating your skin. Perhaps it was really fire, and not embarrassment that burned your cheeks.  _ He was certainly hot enough.  _ Alright, where had that come from? You knew he was attractive, but such thoughts were truly abhorrent.

He finally looked away, and you had practically sunk into your chair in relief. _ I will address whatever that was later.  _ You decide with a soft hum. His eyes shoot back up at the noise, and now you are truly bothered. You can hardly spend all day looking at each other like some bashful, lovey-dovey fiances! Although, what were the two of you if not fiances. You were not acquaintances, nor friends, nor lovers. You were engaged. And so you slammed your book into your lap, and he jumped ever so slightly in fear. “Are we going to do this all day? Because we are hardly schoolchildren.” You say it a bit too loudly, and too awkward to sound like you truly care if he’s looking at you or not. He rolls his eyes, the ones like fire, and you realize why their beauty isn’t always obvious. Because you are too busy finding him annoying to appreciate them. 

“You’re the one who was staring at me like some sort of pursuing noble.” And we were back. Moment over. 

“I am hardly a _ pursuing noble! _ And even if I were, what makes you think I would ever pursue  _ you _ ?” You scoff. Perhaps you’re pushing, but it’s entirely his fault for looking so excruciatingly striking. 

“Oh please,” He rebukes, and you know he is going to say something upsetting. “At least my father isn’t a temperamental ruler.” And there it is.

He’s right, of course. Melaista wasn’t in a famine for no reason, and you certainly hadn’t fought a four-year war in your imagination. Melaista had fallen on hard times because despite his giving nature as a parent, your father was at his best when he took things as a ruler. All of your siblings had responded to it differently. You fought wars, Eret went to far-off places, and Niki argued with your father directly. With luck, Tubbo and Ranboo would be unaware of the reason for the state of Melaista for a few more years, but you already knew how Tubbo would lash out and Ranboo would go silent, as they always did with upsetting information. It was why Technoblade’s comment was so extremely upsetting, because damn it, you  _ knew _ . 

“At least my family is close enough that it doesn’t really matter.” You bite back. 

And although it is slightly immature, it feels good to aim low. Because it wasn’t wrong either. Until you had arrived, they ate dinner in silence, with large gaps in between the children and the adults. The kids were tucked in by a governess or a nursery maid without a lullaby in sight. No one sat to eat breakfast or lunch together. Your family had quickly remedied this. Of course, there was the first dinner, but Eret tucked Tommy and Fundy in with her smooth, deep voice and comforting presence the same way they did for Tubbo and Ranboo. Breakfast and lunch were as fast remedied as asking the workers in the palace to bring them all to the dining hall. 

“Stuck-up.” He muttered into his book, raising it again to read. 

“Stick in the mud.” You bit back. 

After leaving the library that afternoon, you decided to release some tension the best way you knew how. Training. 

It was a slow build as you practiced your mixed martial arts against the dummy. High kick, Uppercut, low kick, right hook. It wasn’t simple for you, in fact you were sweating in seconds, but it felt like home. 

Until, of course,  _ he _ had the same idea to relax. 

“Are you,” You paused for breath, a pant breaking through your lips, “Are you fucking following me?” You offer the words as your dismissal of the prick prince, but he clearly does not take the hint.

“Why would I follow  _ you _ ?” He asks, arms crossed. 

“I think I should be allowed exercise in my own castle,” you can feel his judgement from his place behind you, so you turn, and thank the dragon you do, because he is a  _ sight _ . No cape, no crown, and no waistband to hold him back. Your fiance makes his way through the world. His long hair is pulled up into a bun, and his over-embroidered shirt has been replaced with a black shirt that cuts off before his shoulders and bares his collarbone. It’s hardly indecent, but it certainly reminds you that in a competition of pure strength, he could probably crush your head between his arms like a grapefruit. 

Something about that sparks something in you, because you say, “Fight me.” 

He quirks his eyebrows before shooting a punch at you, but you are already gone, moving like wind past his fist.

You find yourself behind him.  _ High kick. _

He turns, and you are suddenly dodging a barrage of punches, but then he reels back for one more.  _ Uppercut.  _

He stumbles.  _ Low kick. _

You both fall, yourself on top of him.

_ Right hook. _ Your better judgement urges, but you can’t complete the combo.

Why can’t you complete the combo? 

Because you are holding yourself up with your hands on either side of his head, with your faces mere inches from each other. 

Because you can feel his warm breath. 

Because you two are panting in unison. 

Because he goes to sit up and you follow, until you are just sitting in his lap. Breathing and feeling and existing and most certainly  _ not _ arguing. 

In a silent question of which is extremely soft of the man you have been arguing with for the past two months, he presses his forehead to yours. You respond, and you must be there for a good five minutes, simply catching your breath until the absurdity of the situation hits you and you laugh. Clear and loud and unapologetically  _ laugh _ . 

Because you just had a spat with this man due to the fact you were looking over books at each other and why the fuck didn’t the two of you get along anyways?

He just stares at you, and the softness from earlier is no longer hidden. He is simply in awe at the sound of you laughing. 

You make eye contact, and there is a silent agreement to not speak of this particular training session, but maybe you don’t hate him after all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRUH I FUCKING HATED THIS
> 
> So first, I didn't even break 2,000 words, which was my oNLY QUOTA
> 
> I also feel like the characterization is super fast but I also only have eight chapters to get it right because there are only eight Greek types of love and I have something planned for them.
> 
> The fight scene is also too short but I am not an action writer, I am a fantasy writer, so...
> 
> but i hope you guys were feelin it this chapter!!! Who knows, are two soft moments enough to build a marriage on? Do they have time to fall in love before they say i do? Comment or I'll kill off one of the kids next chapter!


End file.
